The Pursuit of Princely Pork
by OpheliaKitt
Summary: When a prize for Louis takes flight, the musketeers set off in its pursuit. My entry into the April/May Fête des Mousquetaires.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Here's my entry to the April/May ****Fête des Mousquetaires ****_i_n honour of my friend Mountain Cat and a bad joke made after I misread something! Enjoy!**_

The Pursuit of Princely Pork

Musketeers are men of honour. But there was no honour, not in this, Athos thought as he, D'Artagnan, Aramis and Porthos rested near a stream just off the road to Paris. The day was hot and he was in a foul mood, exacerbated by the smell of the precious cargo that the Musketeers were escorting to the capital. His own snort of disgust was met with an echo from the tenants of the cart and he stepped away lest one of his brothers overhear the exchange. The sparkle in Porthos' eye and the grin pulling at his lips indicated that he might comment on it, but the seething glare he received from Athos kept his lips pressed firmly together – though it was unable to diminish the laughter in his eyes.

"We should get these beasts watered quickly so we can continue on our way," Athos said.

"Right," said Porthos, "C'mon whelp, let's see you put your farm skills to use."

D'Artagnan scowled in response. "Why me?"

Porthos grinned back and chancing a quick glance at Athos he said, "Cuz Aramis is preparin' us a meal, and I wouldn't dream of indignifying our Monsieur le Comte with this."

D'Artagnan let out a laugh that quickly turned into a cough at anther glare delivered by Athos. Grinning, D'Artagnan and Porthos secured the ramp to the back of the cart.

The gate was unlatched and out in all their majesty stomped three massive Iberian pigs.

A boar and two prized sows trumbled down the gangplank, grumbling in a self-satisfied way. Each wore a magnificent gold collar around their thick necks, their dark hides gleaming and crowned by sparse tufts of hair. Two sharp tusks tipped in gold protruded from the mouth of the male. The pigs, a gift for King Louis from the Duke of Braganza in Portugal, were a truly rich gift and were fattened on a diet of truffles and acorns almost exclusively. To the pompous and discerning elite, these pigs far outweighed their weight in gold, which was saying something, as the beasts were massive. It was for this reason that the musketeers had been tasked with escorting the pigs to Paris. It was Richelieu who named this foursome in particular to escort the pigs, and every moment spent on this vexatious task grated on Athos' temperament and wore his patience thin.

He tugged at his gloves in an aggravated way and was met by the smiling face of the marksman handing him a glass of wine. Athos took it gratefully; Aramis smirked in response as he sipped from his own cup.

"If you were any angrier at our guests, we'd be able to smell their bacon cooking," said Aramis with a grin.

Athos scowled. "This is not the type of task that should require a musketeer escort."

"Come now Athos, the Duke of Burgundy was comparable in size and stench and you complained only a third as much. At least the hogs are less whiny," Aramis replied.

"Yes well, in that case the Cardinal was not insistent that we be the ones to escort the bore." Athos sipped from his glass as Aramis chuckled at the pun. "He intended for this task to cause insult."

Aramis sighed and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Look at it this way – We've had a lovely ride through the country, the sun is bright and shining, and we're reprieved of the inanity of court for another day. There's a village nearby where we can make camp for the night with an excellent inn, and we can be rid of these royal hams by midday tomorrow."

Athos couldn't help but smile slightly at the marksman's good nature, and he shook his head ruefully.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Aramis asked with a broad grin.

The words had no sooner passed his lips when shouts and grunts could be heard coming from the stream.

Aramis' face fell as Athos threw him an exasperated glance as the two rushed to where Porthos and D'Artagnan had led the swine.

When they arrived it was to see Porthos flat on his backside as D'Artagnan desperately tried to calm two very panicked sows.

"What happened?!" shouted Athos over the squeals of the pigs. Aramis quickly pulled the blue sash from his waist and threw the material over the eyes of one of the struggling sows as D'Artagnan quickly covered the eyes of the other to calm them. The animals stilled instantly, calming in their imposed ignorance.

"The boar bolted. Must have gotten spooked or the whiff of another pig or somethin'. Bowled me right over!" said Porthos as he gingerly stood and dusted himself off.

Athos clenched an aggravated fist. "Are they settled?" he asked a little waspishly.

"Yes," said Aramis as he rubbed the sow behind her ears in a soothing manner.

"How did **_you_** know how to do that?" D'Artagnan asked incredulously.

"Pigs can make an awful racket. It's best to know how to calm them if you're trying to make a quiet escape," he said knowingly, his eyebrow cocked in a mischievous way.

"What do we do now?" Porthos grumbled. His humour was as sore as his backside having been thoroughly upended by the large male.

"We need to find it. And soon. The pigs are meant to be bred to improve the King's own stock. We need the stud in order for this to happen," said Athos in a way that stifled any notions of a jest.

"Right," said Aramis, tossing the rope around his sow's collar to D'Artagnan. "The light is fading. We should probably split up. We can make camp here – you won't be able to march the boar all the way to Paris once you find him."

"You'll be coming with me," Athos said, "You seem to share an understanding with these creatures, and we'll need your eyes if we're searching for him in the bush."

"You're too kind," said Aramis blithely.

"Will you two be able to stow the others and make camp? We could be gone for several hours," Athos said.

"We can handle it," grumbled Porthos, his mood as dark as the pigs.

oOO

Aramis and Athos pushed through the undergrowth of the woods in the direction that the pig had scarpered.

Risking his life, Aramis asked a piqued Athos, "Any idea as to how you plan to capture the pig?"

Athos scowled. "We're not unaccustomed to hunting."

"True, we've hunted…but a dead boar and an angry boar are two very different things…perhaps we should have brought the cart with us…"

"It never would have made it through this brush," said Athos bitterly. "I'm more concerned about our odds of finding the pig alive. The people from the village nearby use this woods to hunt in. They're hungry. A boar would be a godsend to some of these people."

"Not only that, but the gold and jewels in the collar alone might sustain a family or even a small village for some while…"

"Then for our sake, I suggest we find the hog quickly," said Athos as he scanned the forest floor for the clear signs of their chase.

The two continued through the woods following the obvious path of destruction left by the hog – trampled grasses, flattened brush, and torn bark where the beasts tusks and grazed the tree trunks as it blundered past.

Aramis knelt suddenly at the base of one particularly battered bramble. Brushing a few leaves aside, he rose and presented his hand to Athos. On it lay a ruby, red as blood and the size of an acorn.

"The richness of nature," said Aramis with a smirk.

"It must have fallen from the collar," said Athos, stowing the stone in the pocket sewn into his cloak.

Suddenly a squeal and scream rent the relative calm of the woods. Exchanging a quick glance, the two musketeers plunged deeper into the woods in pursuit of the cries.

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

They made camp in a tense silence.

Porthos was still sore from being bulled-over by the boar, and D'Artagnan knew better than to provoke Porthos while he was in a mood like this. They were both anxious about what the King might say should they be unable to recover his Portuguese prize.

"'s'all my fault," Porthos grumbled as he went about lighting the fire. "Took my eyes off the thing for only a second…"

"Athos and Aramis will find it Porthos. We were going to spend the night in town anyway before returning to Paris tomorrow. This is only a slight delay, and a little less comfortable of an evening for us. Once Aramis and Athos have returned we'll be back on our way and the King will need to be none the wiser," said D'Artagnan consolingly.

Porthos said nothing, but angrily snapped another branch and tossed it into the fire. The two sows, agreeing with D'Artagnan, grunted happily from their cart.

After a meal, Porthos was fairly mollified. D'Artagnan had returned to the stream to fetch more water as Porthos fed the pigs. Glancing over his shoulder, Porthos saw the figure of D'Artagnan emerging from the trees.

"Y'know, if they wasn't going to be eventually slaughtered, there a worse lives than these pigs…" Porthos began, but trailed off as D'Artagnan entered their small clearing with his hands raised. Four men stood with him – one had a pistol pointed at the Gascon.

"Stay where you are!" shouted the bandit holding D'Artagnan at gunpoint. Porthos froze where he stood, his eyes narrowed at the men holding D'Artagnan captive.

"Now what are two musketeers doing alone in the woods, hmm?" asked the man as his compatriots guffawed next to him. The men were dressed in dark worn clothes. They carried muskets on their backs and swords at their sides. Only one had drawn a weapon.

"Last I checked these was the King's woods, and we're his musketeers. Didn't think we needed any other permission to be here," said Porthos.

"'Course not," sneered the pistol bearer, "But there's an entrance toll…it's ta make sure the King's woods is protected."

"Protected? From the likes of you, you mean," said D'Artagnan. He grimaced as the pistol mouth was pressed harshly into his side. Porthos tensed.

"You could say that," said the man with a grin. "You pay the toll, and yer protected...seems like a fair deal."

"What do you want?" growled Porthos, his anger growing with each passing moment.

The bandits all exchanged a glance. "Tell you what," said a heavyset man on D'Artagnan's right. "Since we's is feeling generous, we's only gonna take half of what you've got in that cart," he said with a foul smirk revealing his yellowed teeth.

"That's the property of the King," snarled Porthos.

"Then 'e won't even know it's missing! 'E's got so much already!"

"If you leave now, we can pretend as though none of this has happened," said D'Artagnan in a fair impression of Athos' dry delivery.

"Ya. Leave now, and we won't have t' kill ya," said Porthos, his lips turning up in a menacing grin.

The bandits chuckled. "Or, we kill ya both and take the lot," said the man with the gun.

A third bandit made his way towards Porthos still chuckling dumbly to himself, a length of rope in his hands. Their confidence was shocking. Clearly these men had little dealings with Musketeers previously – hopefully that would lead to their downfall.

oOo

Athos and Aramis ran to where the source of the cries was coming from. At the base of a large hazel tree stood a small child. Its eyes were massive and its back was pressed tightly against the trunk as the boar aggressively snorted at the child; the threat of sharp gilded tusks was prevalent.

Aramis drew his pistol as the boar looked as though it meant to charge the child.

"No," cried Athos, "We need to try to take the boar alive!"

Aramis grimaced and stowed his pistol. Athos' shout had startled the pig, which turned to face the new threat of musketeers.

"Watch out for its tusks," Aramis shouted as the boar tossed its head angrily.

The shouting seemed to confuse and aggravate it. Its dark gaze flickered between Athos and Aramis, trying to determine which man was the bigger threat. Seizing upon this realization, Aramis and Athos shouted at the pig with their arms raised, but each time either man tried to take a step forward, the boar turned and snorted, kicking up dirt, refusing to give up its ground. It appeared they were at a stalemate.

Athos was growing less concerned with preserving the pig's life and more and more infuriated with the Cardinal who had sent them on this task. He could only imagine the man's insufferable gloat if word got out about their current situation - The King's Musketeers - bullied by a bejewelled boar!

Reaching to his side, Aramis grasped his ammunition pouch and shook it in his hand; the metal balls made a rustling, rattling noise. Intrigued by the noise, the boar focused on Aramis and took a few threatening steps in his direction. Aramis backed away slowly, continuing to rattle the pouch and aggravate the pig. The pig slowly followed.

Athos seized this opportunity and ran to the young girl that was still cowering behind the beast, and lifted her into his arms. His sudden action startled the boar, which turned suddenly with a squeal as though realizing its error. Athos urgently pushed the child into the upper branches of the tree.

"Athos!" cried Aramis, but it was too late: The massive boar charged, throwing its great bulk into Athos and pinning him against the tree trunk, its vicious tusks flashing.

Athos let out a grunt as the immense weight of the animal hit him, but he miraculously kept his feet. A secondary thrash from the beast's head, however, left Athos less lucky. He cried out as he felt the tusk cut into his calf. Hot, red blood shot out from the wound onto the animal's snout which seemed to only incense it further.

A stone suddenly whizzed into the flank of the murderous animal. It turned abruptly from Athos to face its other foe. Athos collapsed in a heap behind it as the dark eyes focused once again on Aramis. Aramis held his cloak out in one arm and still rattled his ammunition pouch, looking very much like the matador he was likely descended from.

"Here! Come here!" he cried and kicked at the dirt in a mimicry of the pig's own actions. Sensing this new challenger, the pig screamed a battle cry before charging headlong at the Spaniard. Calm as ever, Aramis didn't flinch as the massive animal hurtled towards him. He threw his heavy musketeer's cloak onto the beast, confusing and blinding it, as he flung his arms and weight under the beast's neck pinning its legs beneath it. It thrashed and squealed as Aramis wrestled with it. From where he lay Athos managed to throw the rope he had carried with them to Aramis, who plucked it from the air as though he and Athos had practised it. Eventually, in a haze of dust, Aramis succeeded in trussing its feet so the hog lay indignantly bound, despite its golden collar.

Aramis panted heavily as he freed himself from where the beast lay. Looking so dishevelled it wasn't immediately obvious that he was the victor in the wrestling match. He dusted himself off and kept the cloak covering the animal as it continued to snort and grunt in its defeat and displeasure. Aramis staggered towards where Athos now sat crouched at the base of the tree, the young girl, trembling at the sight of the blood, at his side.

Athos was breathing heavily; his eyes were closed tightly as he put pressure on his injured calf.

"See to the girl," he muttered through clenched teeth. Aramis frowned but did as he asked.

Crouching in front of the child to hide Athos and his injury from her vision, he gently asked her for her name and if she was hurt. She looked to be about eight.

"Denise," she whispered through her fingers. Fear was still laced through her voice.

The girl wore an old, patchwork dress that had been lovingly mended several times over, the patching and stitches adding an impoverished decadence, if such a thing could exist. Her forearms and elbows were scratched from where she pressed herself against the tree in her fear, but otherwise she seemed unharmed. Giving her a smile, Aramis turned back towards Athos.

"You'll need to let me remove your boot so I can properly examine the damage," he said quietly. Athos nodded his consent and did his best not to groan as the boot was removed and the torn breaches were raised so Aramis could inspect the injury.

"How does it feel?" Aramis asked as he surreptitiously began unwinding his trusty sash from around his waist.

"It feels as though a mad beast has torn my calf with its tusk," Athos said caustically, grimacing as Aramis began to wrap the leg.

"This needs to be cleaned and stitched…and soon. My medical kit is back with the horses. I'm not sure if you will be able to –"

"This will do," Athos interrupted as he struggled to regain his feet. Athos was pale and there was sweat forming on his brow.

"Athos," scolded Aramis as he helped to steady the swordsman. "You've been injured by an animal. The wound needs to be cleaned right away. An infection from a wound like that can be fatal!"

Athos glared at Aramis, but the medic was not backing down.

A small voice interrupted the battle between the brown and blue eyes of the men.

"My home…it's not far. Mamman can help to make you better…"

The two men regarded the young girl.

"Thank you mademoiselle. We would be greatly indebted to you for your assistance," said Aramis before Athos could protest. "Is it far?"

"No…just through these woods. I'll show you," she said, and then bravely, she stepped forward and took Athos by the elbow. The former comte was stunned by the unexpected contact from the child and was unable to object as he was assisted to stagger away with the support of small but insistent hands.

Aramis grinned at the silent outrage that flashed in his direction from the blue gaze of Athos - but Athos was at all times a gentleman and dared not show the young girl any ingratitude for the assistance. Aramis returned to the pig that had calmed down somewhat. Snapping off a thin branch from a nearby tree, he carefully freed the pig's legs before tying the rope around its neck as a lead. Gathering up his cloak, he followed Athos and the girl through the trees as the sun set, guiding the extremely disgruntled pig with the switch, now docile in its defeat.

oOo


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The fire crackled as the bandits helped themselves to the wine and food of the musketeers. It was as deep into the night as the bandits were into their cups. They were exalting in the spoils of their heist. The pigs would fetch a hefty price even without their magnificent collars, and so they celebrated.

They had bound Porthos and D'Artagnan and pressed them against the pig cart, undecided as to how exactly they should deal with their two captive musketeers, but currently uncaring as the wine they were consuming encouraged their inattentiveness and dismissed any notion of them setting a guard.

"It's late," muttered D'Artagnan from where he sat leaning against the cart's wheel. "Athos and Aramis should have been back hours ago. Something must have happened," he said.

He and Porthos had been secretly working at the bindings around their wrists from where they sat. D'Artagnan had almost cut through the knot by rubbing his bindings against the rough wheel. Porthos was keeping an eye out for the guards.

Porthos raised his eyebrow and glanced away from the men keeping them captive to look at the Gascon.

"No use worryin' 'bout them now while we're tied up here. Once we get out of this mess we can sort out what trouble they've gotten themselves into," he grumbled lowly. He tossed his head and threw a glare over his shoulder as a wet nose began sniffling at his ear from within the cart. "How's that rope comin'?"

"Almost through," D'Artagnan replied.

"Looks like they're finally driftin' off," said Porthos with a grin.

"Drifting off or passing out?" replied D'Artagnan.

Porthos smirked, "Guess they're new to their ruffian lifestyle."

"Perhaps we don't pose much of a threat," said D'Artagnan. A slight snap was heard as the fibres of the rope finally gave way and he pulled his arms free in front of him triumphantly.

"Per'aps we should correct that," said Porthos grinning and glancing at the slumbering bandits who had fallen asleep by the fire as D'Artagnan freed his legs and began to remove the ropes binding Porthos.

Once free, D'Artagnan and Porthos crept quietly towards where the bumbling bandits lay snoozing around the fire. Carefully, they managed to retrieve their weapons and stood at the edge of the firelight. The first hints of dawn in the distance were just beginning to poke through the trees.

"We could probably move the whole camp and they wouldn't notice," muttered D'Artagnan.

"It'd be a shame if we didn't wake them t'say goodbye," said Porthos smirking once again as he raised his pistol into the air and fired.

The bandits jolted awake at the blast and rolled to their feet, clumsily grasping their weapons.

"Ambushes ain't polite, now are they?" Porthos said as he and D'Artagnan drew their swords.

"If you were smart, you'd surrender," remarked D'Artagnan as the bandits spread out slightly and prepared to face the musketeers.

"I guess not," said D'Artagnan, as with a shout, the villains leapt forward and battle commenced.

oOo

The girl led the Musketeers to her home where they were greeted by a kind, but flustered woman with an infant on her hip. The home was little more than a one-room shack with a table and two small beds laid with worn and threadbare sheets. There was a small garden next to the home and a variety of dried herbs hung in the one window. An axe stood next to the door but the fire grate was empty.

Despite the obvious poverty, the house was impeccably clean. Upon a brief introduction and explanation, the woman, Fanette, welcomed the musketeers graciously into her home and immediately began to stoke the fire in the small hearth with the last of her firewood.

Aramis led Athos gingerly to the bed where he removed the boot once more and carefully began to unwrap the injury. The sash had been soaked through with blood and Athos' face was pale at the exertion the walk to the home had cost him.

Aramis had tied the pig to the porch that abutted the garden and Fanette handed her baby to Denise who dutifully took her brother and sat outside on the porch to guard the pig at her mother's request.

Aramis raised an eyebrow at the command and Fanette blushed slightly. "Times are hard," she said. "We don't have any near neighbours, but you never know what people might do for a pig of that size."

Aramis nodded understandably. "I'll need to wash the wound to prevent an infection. There's no chance you might have any alcohol to help clean the wound, would you?"

Again Fanette blushed and shook her head. "That's never been something we could afford. I have some herbs and dried chamomile we can wash the wound with and then make into a poultice to help prevent infection."

"I would not want to burden you or deprive you of any of your stores," said Athos from where he lay on the bed. Fanette caught his gaze and smiled softly

"And I will not have you suffer when there are things I can do to help," she said, as she began to sort through her herbs and placed some in a pot to steep.

Aramis washed the wound with the herbal remedy Fanette had provided. Athos grimaced and fought the urge to cry out as the wound was flushed again and again.

When Aramis had determined that the wound was free of debris, Fanette handed Athos a different cup of brewed herbs.

"Drink it," she said. "It's willow bark. It will help with the pain of what's to follow."

Athos was never a good patient, but under the earnest gaze of the young mother, he did as he was told and laid his head against the bed's headboard in preparation of the stitching that was to come.

"How did you know about these herbal remedies?" Aramis asked her as he began stitching the messy slash on Athos' leg.

"The poor grow sick and injured same as the wealthy, Monsieur. We learn to make do with what we have."

"Your herb lore is impressive. Your skill must be highly valued around here. I have no doubt that you have used it to save many lives," said Aramis kindly.

"Not all lives," she said sadly. "My husband, Jean, passed last fall. He had been a soldier, but he was injured in battle. He tried to find work after that – honest work – but times have been hard as I said. We were scraping by. Then Jean got sick. Nothing I did could help," she finished quietly.

Aramis paused in his work, his brown eyes soft as he gazed at the woman, worn beyond her years. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "Your husband must have been a good man."

"He was," she said warmly, a faraway smile on her lips. "At least he had the chance to meet his son."

Aramis looked away from her as he tied off the last stitch. Athos caught his eye.

"You were lucky," Aramis said as he covered the wound in the poultice Fanette had prepared. "Someone had the crazy idea to coat the tusks in gold. Ridiculous, yes, but it prevented them from splintering and may have kept them cleaner. There may be less chance of infection because of it."

"Remind me to thank him," Athos muttered and tried to rise. Fanette jumped to his side, pressing his shoulder back against the headboard.

"Please," she said, "It is late now, and you should not be upright or straining your leg for a little while yet. It would be my honour if you would stay and rest for the evening. We don't have much, but there's a broth at the hearth and you are welcome to stay in this bed. I can rest with my children."

Athos' blue eyes regarded the woman's open and generous face. She could have been beautiful, had her hard life not taken its toll. Her face was freckled from exposure to too much sun and her hair, the colour of wheat, was dry and damaged by the chord that she used to tie it out of her way. Her hands were calloused from the daily toil he knew that she needed to undertake to continue to provide for her family, and he was dumbstruck momentarily by her selfless generosity.

This family had almost nothing, and what little they had, this woman was willing to sacrifice to help a complete stranger. Athos frowned as he thought about the gilded pig and it's ostentatious collar on the other side of the thin wall. The injustice overwhelmed him.

"It would be an honour," he said, his eyes shining. She inhaled slightly at what those eyes seemed to communicate, but recovered quickly and blushed as she went about gathering bowls. She called to her daughter who sleepily carried her brother into the room. She struggled to finish a cup of broth before her mother put both children to bed. They shivered slightly from the coolness of the night, and Athos insisted that the family take his cloak. The heavy material would help to keep them warm.

Aramis smiled at Athos as he checked the wound once more. He knew his brother was as touched by the selflessness of the family as he was. Exiting the home, Aramis went to keep an eye on their prized pig in its golden magnificence. As he looked around the loving homestead he couldn't help but reflect: However hard life might be, sometimes those who had nothing were far richer and more giving than the shallow men and women of the noblesse.

oOo


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dawn came and Aramis was awoken by the sound of snuffling at his feet. He must have fallen asleep at some point as he was guarding the pig.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he grinned at the pig, who was furrowing through the leaves and ground cover. "Let's not tell Athos about my dereliction of duty…" he whispered to the pig and patted its back. His porcine companion grunted its agreement.

He re-entered the home to find Fanette tenderly binding Athos' leg. The two were taking softly as the children remained sleeping.

"Good morning," said Aramis gently as he entered carrying an armload of wood, which he placed next to the fire, throwing a few logs into the simmering coals to rekindle a blaze.

"Good morning," said Fanette, "and thank you. I've been trying to restock our woodpile for some time, but I don't like to leave Denise alone to tend to her brother for too long. She's still just a child," she gushed, her eyes beaming at the sight of the firewood the marksman had brought in.

"It was my pleasure," said the marksman. "I cut a large pile outside for you. It's not much but it should help get you through these last few weeks of spring until it gets warmer."

"You were certainly industrious," said Athos with a smirk, but the gleam in his eyes expressed his appreciation of Aramis' kindness to this family.

"Well," replied Aramis, "I figured we needed to show our appreciation somehow…Fanette did save your life after all."

Fanette smiled, her beauty more obvious in the morning light than the night before as she laughed softly at the banter between the two men.

"I was happy to help in whatever small way I could," she said. "It wasn't much –"

"It was everything," said Athos affirmatively as he stood gingerly and put weight on his injured leg.

Aramis nodded his agreement. "You offered us your aid without hesitation, helped me to tend my brother's wounds, offered him your bed to sleep in and your food to share in. There is no more honourable deed than giving of yourself to a stranger the way that you did."

"We are honoured by your courtesy," said Athos, taking her hand. She blushed under the gaze of those bright eyes. "Thank you for everything you have done. I shall forever be in your debt," he said, and bending, he kissed her hand.

The woman was flushed by all this gallantry. Aramis smiled warmly at her once more as he followed Athos out the door and went to retrieve the boar on his lead.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" she asked as Aramis wrapped an arm around Athos' waist to support him, while holding the pig's tether in the other hand.

"Our brothers made camp not far from where we met your daughter. We need to return to Paris today," answered Athos, as he began to move away.

"Wait!" cried Fanette, closing her door behind her, and rushing to stand before the two musketeers. "Your cloak – the children are still sleeping under it. I could wake them…" she said, but Athos shook his head.

"Keep it," said Athos.

"The material is thick. It will help keep you warm," said Aramis.

"But it is expensive…"

"Take it as my gift to you...repayment…something for you to keep your treasures in," said Athos pointedly. Aramis glanced quickly at Athos before he grinned broadly, the mischievous sparkle shining brightly in his eyes. With a tip of his hat from Aramis and a nod from Athos, the two musketeers bid adieu to Fanette and made their way back through the woods as the sun rose.

oOo

The sunlight forced itself through the trees so it fell in stripes across the clearing where D'Artagnan and Porthos stood before the bandits.

The bandits split up so two men faced each musketeer. Porthos grinned at the odds. It would take more than two men apiece to stop D'Artagnan and him, especially as they weren't being taken unawares this time. That, and it was obvious that the bandits were untrained…

The men fought enthusiastically, the strokes of their blades landing wildly off target but with a gusto to be admired. D'Artagnan couldn't help but smirk as he pictured Athos' reaction to his foes' sword work. He dodged and ducked the thrusts of the two men, weaving their attacks closer to each other in their eagerness.

Porthos similarly was facing his opponents – the heavier man, and the man who had originally held the pistol to D'Artagnan's side. Perhaps the two were unused to combat, as they shot panicked glances back and forth between them as Porthos lazily unarmed one then the other. They stood across from him panting heavily.

"Do you surrender?" Porthos asked brandishing his sword. The heavy man growled and clenched his fists in a defensive stance. The other man did the same. Porthos grinned broadly, and sheathing his sword, prepared for the next attack from the men as two large bodies with fists raised came at him.

D'Artagnan had been watching Porthos in his bouts from the corner of his eye and paid for his distraction as he felt the sting of a blade. He hissed in his frustration, chastising himself for losing focus. His combatants drew energy from the hit though it didn't break the skin.

Patience forgotten, D'Artagnan knew that this fricassee had gone on long enough. Carefully he herded the bandits closer together until finally, their sword arms grew entwined in a series of over exaggerated flourishes and they fell to the ground in a heap. They had somehow managed to disarm each other and stared up at D'Artagnan from their backsides, breathing hard.

A cry and a grunt and the body of the heavy man came sailing towards the two men downed by D'Artagnan. The man was breathing, but otherwise was not moving. Porthos half-dragged, half threw the last bandit onto the pileup of bodies by the neck of his coat.

"Had enough?" D'Artagnan asked

"Or do we owe ya some more?" asked Porthos menacingly.

A slight squeal and a whimper answered him as the men cowered at his feet bearing a remarkable resemblance to the tenants of the cart.

Porthos and D'Artagnan bound the four men as the sun continued to rise through the trees, just as Athos and Aramis strode into the clearing, the boar walking docilely on the lead at Aramis' side.

"Made some new friends?" asked Aramis with a grin as he led the boar back to the cart where his female companions greeted him indifferently.

Porthos grinned. "Nah. Just some folks interested in the price of bacon. Had to make 'em come to terms with the fact that we weren't sellin'. What happened to you to?"

"Our Portuguese friend here took a disliking to Athos' calf. I had to clean and stitch it. An angel swept in to tend to and save our brother here. I think he was quite taken by her," said Aramis with a cheeky grin at Athos.

Athos rolled his eyes. "We should head back to Paris. We can have Red Guards sent back here to deal with them," he said indicating the bound men.

"Four bandits? Bound and trussed like Christmas geese? Are you sure you'd trust the Red Guard with such a task?" asked D'Artagnan teasingly.

"Well you've certainly made it so they won't be going anywhere…" said Athos.

"Besides," said Aramis, "What the worst that could happen?"

Athos glared at Aramis as he pulled himself into the seat of the cart. "You seem determined to make those your famous last words," said Athos witheringly as Porthos and D'Artagnan roared with laughter.

oOo


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The King stood in the courtyard of the palace with Captain Treville, the Queen, Cardinal and several of his courtiers in attendance as the musketeers led the opulently decorated Iberian pigs before him.

"Magnificent!" cried Louis, "What glorious creatures. Did you know, Cardinal, that these pigs are a prized gift from the Duke of Braganza? Their meat is supposed to be the sweetest in the world and they have the richest of diets."

"Yes, your majesty. I believe I have heard you say that before. These beast will enrich your majesty's own stocks as well," said Cardinal Richelieu with his usual half simpering, half sneering tone.

"Exactly!" exclaimed the King. "Can't you just taste it? What do you say, Treville?"

"My men are pleased to have been able to deliver these gifts to you, your majesty," said Treville diplomatically avoiding the King's question.

"Yes, quite right. Well done musketeers," said the King beaming at his men.

"I notice," said Cardinal Richelieu menacingly, "That there seems to be a stone missing from the collar of the boar."

Porthos and D'Artagnan looked shocked, having just noticed the missing stone from the jewelled collar. Athos took a slight step forward, fighting the grimace caused by his injured leg.

"I'm sorry, your majesty. The stone must have fallen free somewhere on route," said Athos.

"Who's to say that one of your men didn't just pocket the stone for themselves, Treville?" accused the Cardinal, rearing up, like a snake about to strike.

"These are your most loyal and honourable men, sire. I don't believe that they would do anything like the Cardinal is insinuating for personal gain," said the Queen defensively.

"My men will agree to a full search of their persons and the cart that the pigs came in if that will satisfy your majesty and prove their fealty," said Treville anxiously.

The four musketeers immediately nodded their acquiescence.

"I don't believe that's necessary," said the King as the Cardinal visibly deflated at his side. "In all likelihood, one of the pigs probably ate the stone on the journey here. Like I said, they do have rich diets," joked Louis.

"If the stone was eaten, there's a possibility that it might be passed. Perhaps the Cardinal's Red Guard could be entrusted to supervise this process in search of the stone?" Athos suggested delicately with a slight bow.

"An excellent idea! See it done, Cardinal," said Louis, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket and placing it under his nose. "Come. As magnificent as these creatures are…they're still pigs...and they smell. We will have refreshments set out on the south lawn…downwind," commanded the King as he turned with a flourish, away from the pigs in their golden collars and headed across the lawns with the Queen to where they could be free of such noxious opulence.

Dismissed, the musketeers slowly returned to the garrison where they all exalted in the idea of the Red Guard having to comb through porcine excrement for the next few days. As Aramis replaced the bandages on Athos leg, D'Artagnan caught them both with a pointed stare.

"So…do you know what happened to that missing stone?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in challenge.

Neither man's face changed as Aramis continued to wrap the bandages around Athos' leg. "My dear D'Artagnan, I believe the stone is lost to the richness of nature," he said, his eyes sparkling slightly.

"Yes," agreed Athos, "Wherever the stone is now, I'm sure it will be put to a much better use than on the collar of a future Easter banquet."

Porthos and D'Artagnan grinned. They'd let Aramis and Athos keep their secret – at least until later that evening at the tavern.

oOo

In a small house just outside of the woods about a half day's ride from Paris, Fanette brushed the dirt from her hands as she entered the warmth of her one room home. A fire was burning merrily, and a large pile of wood sat next to the hearth to maintain its warming glow. Her son lay sleeping on one of the small beds, the blue musketeer's cloak piled around his feet. Her daughter, Denise, lay on the ground, pushing something across the wooden floorboards. Bending, she scooped her daughter up into her lap.

"What have you got there, my love?" she cooed as she swept in to give her daughter a kiss.

"Nothing," she said, "Just a gift from the musketeers. It was in a pocket lining the cloak," she said, and held out her hand for her mother to see.

In the small grubby palm sat a ruby, red as blood, about the size of an acorn.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

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_**A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoyed it!**_


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